


boys wanna play with boys

by babybun



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, Misuse of Bandannas, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 21:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6440482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybun/pseuds/babybun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They shouldn't be doing this. Not in the back-seat. Not in the midst of the particularly relentless heat-wave; and <i>certainly<i> not when Rick is less than a foot away from them <i>and<i> in perfect hearing range. </i></i></i></i></p><p>Alternatively: Jesus somehow manages to make Daryl's head swim, and even more so in the back-seat of Rick's car after a supply run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	boys wanna play with boys

 

 

**i.**

 

They shouldn't be doing this. Not in the back-seat. Not in the midst of the particularly relentless heat-wave; and _certainly_ not when Rick is less than a foot away from them _and_ is in perfect hearing range. But in digression, somehow Jesus manages to make Daryl's head swim, and the current situation in which his delicate and nimble hand is shoved down Daryl's waistband is not at all an exception.

The thick, leather seats prompts a grossly sweaty Daryl to slouch uncomfortably over the headboard and to make makeshift handles out of the material. He attempts to hold his breath; tries to ignore how hot and heavy Jesus' breath feels against his neck; pleads with God to let him to just  _breathe_ for fucks sake. But his prayers remain silent offerings, and all his attention is soon wrenched back to reality when one of Paul's gentle fists wraps itself around his throbbing length. 

"So I'm reading through one of Carl's beloved comics, right?" Rick's exhausted voice trails off from the cockpit of the car, the reflection of his ruggedly handsome features bouncing off of the sheen of the windshield. He seems fucking oblivious, and Daryl silently ponders how somebody could be so exposed to signals and not even notice. But nevertheless, his focus is understandably placed elsewhere.

The leather seat squeaks unpleasantly as Paul slides forward, his knees marking every bump and ridge of the chair. His golden-blonde hair is all askew over his bronze face, the strands threaded with beads of sweat. And as expected, his signature onyx bandanna loops over his chin, obscuring more of that sweet, tanned flesh. The shell of his pale-pink lips glide lightly over the raised hairs upon Daryl's neck, before retreating when Rick turns abruptly snaps his head.

" _Mhm_ ," Jesus murmurs softly. He even has the fucking nerve to give Daryl's hard-on a nice, firm pump to drag out the torture. "I'm fairly certain we've heard this story before, but if it'll stop you mercilessly playing that 80's CD on repeat, then by all means continue." 

 _Bastard,_ Daryl thinks, and debates on blowing the whole thing out of the window by moving his bandanna away to releasing a choked moan. The cloth has very nearly been stuck down his throat, absorbing any sound the man dares to make. Paul, whom is currently (and quietly) tugging at the zipper of Daryl's thread-bared jeans to gain more access, glances upwards in what could've been a second, an hour, or even a lifetime. With baby-blue eyes and a dancing smile, he mutters something so barely audible that Daryl barely catches it. 

"You ' _not being gay_ ' is now pretty redundant." 

Very Merle-esque. 

Almost subconsciously, Rick proves to be an angel when he slides another godawful disc of 70's and 80's music CD into it's designated compartment, the music somewhat droning out the slick squelches and caught-between-teeth groans that ensue. 

Somewhere in the middle of it all, a desperate and husky moan catching itself in Daryl's throat, he manages a soft - but not entirely aggressive, "Fuck you."

The sly grin he receives in return is almost purposely wicked. "Other way round, Dixon." 

The next few minutes are fucking torture as Daryl bucks and grinds his hips for all he's worth, pining to gain some of that sweet, electric friction his body so deeply desires. Paul, behind his old Earth acts of kindness, can be rather cruel when the situation permits it. The fact that his fingers are wound gently around Daryl's wrists and that his lips are grazing painfully slow over the junction between his collar bones and neck is enough evidence in itself.

Rick grumbles against the dashboard, the sound of leather hitting plastic audible as he throws his feet up out of pure boredom. "I don't even think you guys are listenin' anymore," followed by a curious, " _are_ you?" 

Giving another hard strokes and jerks, Jesus looks up from his bowed-head position halfway down the backseat, his mouth mouthing away at Daryl's boxer briefs. The front protrudes a dark stain, and as Paul peels back the underwear to let Daryl's manhood stand to attention, he licks a wet stripe down the flesh with an unusually eager stroke of the tongue.

Daryl moans, long and hard, but thanks his lucky stars it's during a particularly loud drum solo. His brunette head has lolled back against the summer rain-stained glass, his tendrils of hair all tangled and looped with sweat beads. He feels butterflies frantically bouncing in his lower belly as those two, sinful yet doe-like eyes command him, teal pupils flickering over him like camera shutters.

"We're go _od_ ," Daryl says quickly. _Far_ too quickly. The last syllable quakes, but Rick magically falls for it with a beaten grunt, sinking back into his seat and taking a swig of mineral water.

  _I knew you were queer from the moment I met you,_ Daryl yearns to remark, but he remembers the mouth around his cock and quickly decides against it. And  _then_ he recalls Merle saying similar things in the past, and he _wasn't_ Merle. He was different.

"Fuck," Daryl hisses, feeling his dick twitch and throb against Paul's tongue, who is relentlessly bobbing his head back and forth. Daryl never knew a pair of lips could be so lust-driven, but allows himself the pleasure when his eyes roll backwards inside his head. 

 _God,_ he clenches his teeth tightly together, his legs shaking and dribble forming against the bandanna that has been tightly knotted over his mouth.  _Fuck, fuck._

And with an ironic " _Jesus Christ_ ," Daryl comes against hard Paul's slick tongue, convulsing and shivering despite the furious summer heat. The high he hits might as well be Cloud 9, the orgasm washing over him in short laps and fulfilling him with emotions he'd never thought possible. Jesus wipes his mouth slate clean with the back of his sleeve and smirks devilishly; a far cry from the usual solemn soul the camp were used to seeing.

"Oh-Oh my God."

It takes both Daryl and Jesus several seconds to register that Rick is staring at the both of them, eyes blown wide and jaw practically touching the ground.

Long story short, Paul and Daryl don't let Rick get any sleep that night. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr.](http://www.oddbt.tumblr.com)   
>  [twitter.](https://twitter.com/oddbot_)


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